


Two Specks of Dust

by FromOrzammarWithLove



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drinking & Talking, Drinking to Cope, Drunken Kissing, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 07:59:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10382103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromOrzammarWithLove/pseuds/FromOrzammarWithLove
Summary: Leske and Ragna Brosca have been working together for years. They have seen the best and worst of each other. Both of them do their best to cope with the difficult life they're living. How does one fight the loneliness of Dust Town?





	

It was hot near the old smoke vents of Dust Town, where her mother used to work. They weren‘t used anymore but the heat of the Lava still gathered in the long old vents. It was no easy feat to climb down those dusty metal pipes, but over the years the young dwarf was just as surefooted climbing down the steep way into hot darkness than she was wandering the streets of Dust Town. Soon enough she reached the bottom of the discarded smoke vent, a small space of complete darkness, if not for a glowing stone she had lain out a couple of weeks ago and with a sweltering heat in the air. But it was less dusty here than in most corners of Dust Town and she had her privacy here, something she severely lacked outside the large circular pipe she had just climbed down. Ragna Brosca smoothed the hair that stuck to her forehead back into the mess of red curls and wiped the beads of sweat that had begun to gather in her thick brows from her face. She then proceeded to beat the brown dust from the leather armor she was wearing and tried to smooth down her hair by running her finger through the thick curls. It turned out to be a hopeless endeavor, her tangled mess of hair couldn‘t be tamed by her small fingers, so she found herself giving up on that rather quickly. Instead she sat down on the rough ground and waited. Every now and then she reached for a hidden pocket in her armor, where she kept the small treasure of the day. She was unusually nervous and fidgety about her appearance. She became all too aware of the omnipresent fragrence of sweat, dirt and leather that clung to her and cursed herself for not changing her clothes before climbing down the vent.

It was only when she let her guard down a bit, that she realized how hungry she was. It was a lingering stinging in her gut that grew stronger the harder she tried to ignore it. It had been a long day without any meals and the day before she had only had a cup of deep mushroom stew, that consisted more of boiled water than anything else. Today there hadn‘t been time to procure the ingrediants for a meal, but soon she would be home and maybe Rica would have saved her some food... probably not though, she reminded herself. Rica had went out the last couple of evenings and only returned either very late or not at all. She never talked about her work, it made her uncomfortable, but Ragna knew that Rica must have found a patron, otherwise she would be home more often. The fact that Rica didn‘t want to talk about him made Ragna believe that it had to be somebody important, perhaps an Assembly Lord‘s son, or maybe an Assembly Lord himself... Ragna just hoped Rica would soon be able to leave this life she had been forced to live and find true happiness in a higher caste. 

Her stomach was growling like a wounded bronto by the time she heard the sounds of somebody else climbing down the vent. The new arrival was far less surefooted than Ragna and she heard several thuds and mild cursing before the figure of another dwarf entered the floor at the botton of the vent. He was wearing the same sort of leather armor that she was wearing and the dark brand upon his cheek was the same one that adorned hers. „You‘ve taken your time, duster“, Ragna said, a grin on her lips she knew he couldn‘t see in the dim light of the glowstone. „Well hello to you too“, he answered while dusting himself off. „I can‘t believe you‘re making me climb down here again“. Unlike Ragna, Leske had never minded the lack of privacy in Dust Town. Quite to the contrary, he seemed to enjoy the reputation the two of them were beginning to build up among their peers. Since people began to identify them as Beraht‘s thugs they had been left rather undisturbed by the beggars and petty thieves of their Home Town. Leske never seemed to care about who might be listening when he talked and what consequences that might have. He never even thought that far.

Leske slumped down on the ground next to Ragna andshe could smell the sweat on him. He was still out of breath from the climb. „Oh don‘t worry, I‘ll make it worthwile“, she said and brought forth a corked clay jug she had been hiding in the secret pocket of her armor 

„Nice!“, Leske exclaimed, reached for the jug and pulled the cork from it with a loud pop that echoed from the circular walls of the old vent. Then he took a sniff at the beverage inside. „Glowing Slime Spirits? Damn, salroka, where‘d you get that?“, he asked with an impressed chuckle. „Nicked it from some miner sod on that job we did this morning, the one at the lyrium veins. Took it right when you were roughing up that smuggler. Poor sod didn‘t even notice“. „You know what this is worth? We could eat for weeks from it!“, Leske said. He was always thinking about getting by. „We sell this and Beraht will know we stole something on the job. Then it‘ll be my head on the line. He‘s already fed up with Rica, I don‘t need him breathing down my neck as well. Also I prefer my head on my shoulders“. The thought of an angry Beraht made her shudder, but Leske wasn‘t quite prepared to let the thought slip: „I know a merchant, she‘s really discreet. She wouldn‘t just tell us off“. „She wouldn‘t have to“, Ragna replied. „I know him. That man has eyes everywhere... and even if he doesn‘t see it, he‘ll notice when he finds out we‘ve been buying food. Then I‘ll be the one to pay for this mess. Wouldn‘t want to repeat last time...“ she didn‘t have to finish the sentence. He had seen her bruises, he knew what awaited her, should Beraht find out. The topic made him uncomfortable, he straightened his posture up and and coughed once. „Actually I always wanted to try this. D‘you know they brew that stuff from dead glowing slimes? Always though it had to taste nasty!“. Ragna chuckled a bit at that. She had to give it to Leske to know how to steer a conversation in another direction. „Go on then, it‘s all for the drinking!“, she told him. Leske‘s smile seemed to freeze in his face and he hesitated. „Or are you too scared? The fierce fighter, taken down by a drink?“, Ragna teased. „Sod off, Ragna! I just… don‘t want to steal the glory of the first taste from you. After all you went through all the trouble“. He gave her the jug. „Alright then, charmer. I knew you wouldn‘t have the guts“, she said, raised the jug to her lips and took a big gulp of the glowing slime spirits. 

Her throat felt on fire as the dark liquid ran through it and it burned water into her eyes. She surpressed the urge to spew it all out again and instead went into a coughing fit. All the while Leske laughed loudly, enjoying the show. „Well if I were a bit of a believer, I‘d say the Stone left you there for a second, salroka“, he chuckled. „If you were you‘d know the Stone already has“, Ragna said. „I think I need another taste… that said I hope I am still able to taste. After that sip… not so sure“. Her exhaggeration made Leske go pale, now it was her turn to laugh. „Don‘t worry, I jest. I just wasn‘t expecting it to be this… potent“. She took a more careful sip the second time and it really wasn‘t as bad. It filled her empty belly with a soothing warmth and had a strange smoky aftertaste which she savored. „Not bad, actually“, she exclaimed and handed the jug to Leske, who took it, this time without hesitation, set it to his lips and started drinking. Without even blinking he chugged down several big gulps of the beverage, before setting it down again. With a loud „Ah!“ and a shrug of his shoulders he was done. „Who doesn‘t have guts now?“, he asked.

The evening grew later as the jug slowly emptied itself and by the time the last sip had left it Ragna felt slightly nauseous, but elated. The alcohol in her blood had flushed her cheeks and complicated words had become increasingly difficult to pronounce, but she didn‘t care. They were talking about their past jobs, jesting about ongoing jokes of theirs and reminiscing of what they‘d do if they were the king of Orzammar. It was already nighttime, usually by now she would be sleeping. The following day would be hard enough, even without the massive hangover that awaited her. But right now all of that didn‘t seem to matter. She enjoyed Leske‘s company when they were on the job, but without the eyes of Dust Town upon them he dropped most of his swagger and wasn‘t concerned about seeming brutish anymore. He was just himself, simply enjoying a good drink and a lighthearted conversation. „I could take em, y‘know? All those darkspawn and lightspawn and knights and thugs… I-I could take all o‘em!“, he exclaimed, waving the empty jug as if it were one of his daggers. Ragna giggled without really knowing why and said: „Y‘know what we should do? Wesshould take down Beraht, take his whole thing over and drink up all the casks in Orzammar.“ „Yaa!“, Leske called with intoxicated elation. In his vigor he smashed the jug to the wall of the old smoke vent and it rained bits of broken clay, dust and drink residue onto the two dwarves. „Leske!“, Ragna called out feigning annoyance and attempted to brush the grime from her face. She knew she would brush bits of the broken jug from her hair for weeks to come. Leske just grinned at her. „You‘ve got it all in your braids you big sod!“, she said and laughed as she reached for a shard of clay that protruded from one of the black braids on his head. He just stared at her. 

„This isn‘t like you, what‘s wrong?“, Ragna asked. „Nothing it‘s just… you‘re… you look a lot like Rica. I never noticed“, Leske answered, still staring at her. Suddenly Ragna was aware of how close to each other they were. She could feel the heat where theirthighs touched each other and she could smell the sweat and dirt on his skin and the alcohol on his breath. He was so close she could see the stubble on his jaw and her own reflection in his eyes. She was overcome by the desire to touch his face, to press her lips onto his and let him pull her into a tight embrace. She couldn‘t withstand his gaze and looked away. „Well, don‘t get your hopes up. Rica‘s more into the rich noble type. The type that can shower her witch love and affection and offer her tokens of love, not a house of dust“. Leske frowned at that. „Tha‘ was mean! I was trying to be nice!“, he said. „I was… I‘m sorry, Leske. I just… I know Rica is the pretty one. I never got a chance to be“, she brought out. She wasn‘t good at talking about things like this. Talking about feelings made her stutter and feel vulnerable. The glowing slime spirits loosened her tongue and made her stammer things she regretted immedietly afterwards. But it was true. She had always stood in Rica‘s shadow. She was the younger sister, less pretty, less well behaved, less feminine. All she ever learned to do was intimidate dusters and get into fights. When Leske looked at Rica he saw her beautiful braids, her tight dresses and graceful movements. When he looked at Ragna all he saw was just another carta thug. 

„I… I think you‘re pretty“, Leske stuttered. „Tha‘s what I wanted to say, I… you… you‘re...“, the words slurred together when he spoke and he gave up trying to bring out a whole sentence. He was drunk but the way he stared at her, that strange look he had never given her before, something about the dim light of the glowstone and the isolation of the old smoke vent or perhaps just because of the alcohol in her blood showed her that this night was different.  
And then they kissed.

Because it was dark in the old smoke vent and nobody outside would know.

Because she was drunk and he was there

Because he had told her she was pretty.

Because she was lonely, so endlessly lonely and had secretly craved his attention for the Stone knew how long.

It wouldn‘t last. It would never last, she knew that. She also knew he only kissed her because he wanted her sister and in the darkness he could pretend that it was her he was kissing. But she didn‘t care. For one fleeting moment the overwhelming loneliness of Dust Town seemed to fade away and she felt safe and complete in his embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> I did a thing, yay! This is my first ever fic I uploaded and I hope it's not as bad as I silently dread it is.


End file.
